Love, Romance, Lust, Sex Between Mom and Son
09-08-2014, 10:40 PM
I have to be honest, when I first received the, 'hold the date' notice for my twenty fifth high school reunion, I deleted the e-mail almost instantly. As a forty three year old mother and career woman, I had left my school days far behind me. My family and I lived just over one hundred miles away from the town in which I grew up and I rarely went back to visit, particularly since my parents retired to Florida a few years earlier. If fact, I had not even thought of my alma mater in ages.
I know a lot of people look back on that time of their life with misty eyed nostalgia, but my high school years were far from my greatest. In my teens, I was a complete nerd, close to the top of my class and a flutist in the school's marching band. On top of that I was on the chunky side, with braces and thick glasses. Not exactly a recipe for stardom in your average American high school.
Just a few days after receiving the e-mail, during a restless night's sleep, I had a dream about my high school crush, Billy Hanlon. He grew up a couple blocks away from our house, and I'd see him on occasion strolling through the neighborhood with his group of friends in tow. Billy was tall and lean, with a thick head of blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He was the star pitcher on our baseball team, and rumor had it he was bound for glory in the major leagues until he injured his arm. I blushed every time he passed by, but I doubt he noticed as I'm sure he didn't even know I existed.
When I awoke the next morning, my mind ran back to thoughts of Billy. I couldn't help but wonder what he looked like and what he was doing after all these years, and a chill ran down my spine. It was Saturday and I wasn't working, so after getting breakfast for my husband and son, I made an excuse to go to the basement so I could dig out my high school yearbook.
It took me a while to locate as it had been boxed up with other keepsakes for years, but when I found it I slowly poured over every page. I barely recognized many of the faces anymore, but a few really stood out. Billy looked the same as I remembered him, complete with scruffy hair and high cheekbones. He appeared very svelte in his Harrison High baseball uniform, and I was saddened to think that things hadn't worked out for him.
I felt a pang of guilt at not keeping in touch with my two best friends from school when I saw their pictures. Michelle and Janet were my partners in crime in the old days, and I was curious if they would be attending the reunion. For some reason, I was left longing to reconnect with my past for the first time in ages.
Over the next week, my thoughts kept wandering back to the reunion. I couldn't help but wonder who would be there and what they might look like after all this time. With each passing day, my curiosity grew to the point that I was actually interested in attending. I was pretty sure I wouldn't, mind you, but the thought no longer sickened me.
Candidly, I had no reason to be particularly anxious over seeing old schoolmates. After graduating from Harrison, I attended a great private college where I earned my degree, before starting a family and subsequently embarking on a successful career. I lost the thick glasses I wore in school in favor of contact lenses, and of course my braces came off as well. All in all things were okay; I'm sure I was doing a lot better than most of my former classmates anyway.
Not that things were perfect in my life mind you. My job required me to put in long hours, so I was away from my home more than I would have cared for. In fact, I would have loved to find something less stressful, but given the fact that I made far more money than my husband and had the better health insurance, my career was important to the family coffers.
My husband, Don, was a decent guy, but not the most motivated man in the world. He held the same position at work for years, and had been passed over for promotion on numerous occasions. He constantly whined about how he got screwed in one way or another, and as a result had grown quite bitter. But I knew the truth, that he was simply lazy. So, I was left to pick up the slack, both at work and at home.
Over the years, I think it would be fair to say that Don and I had very simply grown apart. When we were young, it was easy to overlook our differences as everything was new to us since we were each the other's first real relationship. We rarely fought; we just went about our business largely on our own. Of course we still slept in the same bed, but it had been ages since we had been intimate.
The one true bright spot in my life was our only child, my loving son, Tyler. He somehow ended up with all of the best qualities from both sides of our family, plus others I had not ever seen in any of our relatives. Tyler had my curious mind and drive, with his dad's easy nature. He was also as sweet and compassionate as anyone I had ever met, and friends seemed to gravitate to him like bees to honey. He lived at the house during the summer while attending university about an hour away from home, working towards a degree in engineering.
At dinner one evening, I mentioned the reunion just to gauge Don's interest. He looked at me like I had three heads and asked, "You're not seriously considering going, are you? I thought you hated high school." I replied that I didn't really want to go, but was simply curious about what my friends were up to these days.
Tyler on the other hand was incredibly supportive and encouraged me to attend. "You should go, Mom. I'm sure everyone would love to see you," he said enthusiastically, which drew a sarcastic chuckle from my husband.
Of course Tyler had no idea that his mom was one of the nameless masses that wandered the halls of Harrison High, but how could he? My son always seemed to admire me; in fact, at times when he was younger I think he may have even had a crush on me. For years he was like my little shadow, following me around the house everywhere I went. I thought it was cute, but he eventually outgrew it as he matured into the handsome young man is today.
After Don's reaction, I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was not going to attend the reunion. It didn't bother me that much as I was a good forty pounds overweight, and didn't want my old classmates to see me at less than my best. I wasn't exactly a prom queen in high school and I didn't want to further reinforce old images my schoolmates may have long held. Yet deep down a desire to go was building daily. If not for my weight, I'm sure I would have already reserved tickets.
For whatever reason, Tyler broached the subject with me constantly, asking if I was going. I told him I wasn't really interested, but it was obvious he could see the truth behind my lies. He kept pressing me with one simple question, "Why?"
I gave excuse after excuse, but none appeared to hold up under Tyler's scrutiny. Finally, somewhat exasperated, I told him the truth, that I was self-conscious about my size and that I was never particularly popular in school anyway. I hated to say it, but I let him know I was sure I wouldn't be missed. I was disappointed in myself for sharing that with him and possibly shattering his illusions, but I didn't know what else to say.
Tyler looked genuinely stunned and stated incredulously, "But Mom, you're adorable." He then added, "I bet you look better than any of the other women that'll be there."
I couldn't help but sigh as his words sank in because I knew he meant them completely. "Thank you honey, that was sweet," I replied softly as I gazed into his handsome face, and then added, "But I'm still not going." Tyler just shook his head and walked away. How could a twenty one year old kid understand how neurotic a woman my age can be when it came to her self-image?
I did my best to forget about the reunion for a few days until Tyler approached me one evening. I could tell something was on his mind by the look on his face, before he stated, "You know, I've been thinking, Mom."
I was curious about what was to follow, but was sure it had something to do with the reunion. I replied, "About?"
"Well, you know I have that gym set up in the basement, right?" he asked hesitantly. "I was thinking I could put you on an exercise program to lose a pound or two before your party."
He was of course being his usual sweet self by saying a, "pound or two," but I loved him for it. "Honey, I appreciate it, I really do, but I'm not going."
It was clear he had been expecting just such a response when he said, "Well, we could work out together anyway, you know, to each get in better shape. What do you think?"
I almost laughed in his face hearing him talk about getting in better shape. Tyler was just over six feet tall, and weighed close to one hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle. He was not overly bulky, but completely firm all over. He had a body most men would die to have and most women would love to hold.
09-08-2014, 10:40 PM
My work schedule was still hectic, but the idea of losing a few pounds and possibly attending the reunion held great appeal to me. Between my job and Tyler's school, we rarely got to spend any quality time together, so the idea of further bonding with him was wonderful. Before my mind could formulate possible excuses, I heard myself saying, "Okay, I'm in."
"Awesome, Mom," he responded with a bright smile, "We can start this weekend!"
When Don learned that Tyler and I were going to be working out together, he chuckled, "You're kidding me, right Kathy? Bet that lasts two weeks, max." I hadn't really expected anything different, but would it have killed him to be supportive for a change? If anyone in the house needed exercise it was him, the lard ass.
Saturday afternoon Tyler and I met in the basement to begin our training. I felt really self-conscious, so I dressed in a baggy pair of sweat pants and an old tee shirt. I was impressed by how serious Tyler was taking things as he explained the program he had designed for me. However, I was mortified when he asked me to step on a scale, and even more so when he produced a tape from my sewing kit to take my measurements. I did my best to talk him out of it, but he was insistent that watching the weight and inches fall off would be incredibly motivating.
Left with no good argument against it, I finally relented, and he set about taking my measurements. I don't think I'd ever been as embarrassed as when my son dropped to his knees and wrapped the tape around my thigh. He didn't tell me the reading, and candidly I didn't want to know, he just wrote it down in a notebook.
Next he moved to my hips, then my abdomen, each time being as professional as possible. Finally he stood and blushed a bit as he moved the tape around my chest. I felt a tingle run down my spine as the back of his fingers scraped across my breast momentarily. I was a bit ashamed at my reaction, but it had been ages since I'd been touched in an intimate way, I could hardly be blamed, or so I told myself.
After he finished jotting down the figures, Tyler announced, "We'll do this once a week and I'll put it up on a chart so we can monitor your progress as we go."
There was no way on earth I wanted my numbers posted on the wall for anyone to see, particularly my husband, so I told Tyler that was just not going to happen. In addition, I explained that I was not going to subject myself to the scale every week, and offered a monthly compromise. Thankfully he understood, and agreed to keep my measurements in his notebook. The reunion was still six months away, so I just hoped the temporary humiliation would somehow all be worth it in the long run.
Tyler had a padded mat on the floor and I was soon upon it as he put me through a long stretching regimen. I was more than a tad embarrassed at some of the positions he placed me in, bending over this way or that as every other stretch seemed to have either my butt or my breasts thrust outward. I was glad I wasn't wearing a skimpy leotard, not that I even owned one, of course.
After a good fifteen minutes on the mat, I was instructed to get on the exercise bike to further warm up my muscles and get the blood flowing. Tyler said ten minutes would be a good start, so I began peddling away. After only three minutes or so I was sweating and feeling short of breath, but fought to make it to the finish.
I assumed we'd take a break after my time on the bike, but Tyler had other things in mind. I was sweating profusely when he started me on some light weight lifting. He showed me proper technique, which most often involved him touching or holding various parts of my body as he did so. I knew he was just being helpful, but at times his fingers strayed close to some of my more delicate areas, which once again made me shiver.
At times I found myself watching Tyler intently as we took turns lifting weights. He appeared so powerful as he pumped the bar above his head, sweat soaking his brow. After a while he pulled off his tee shirt and worked bare-chested. His abs were cut and his chest looked like that of a body builder, so much different than my droopy, sagging husband.
After another half hour or so, Tyler released me to the most enjoyable shower I had ever experienced. As I stood under the hot water, I couldn't get him out of my mind. His hands had been where nobody else's had in so long, I felt guilty that I actually found it somewhat titillating. As I soaped my body, I discovered that my nipples were hard and my vagina was aroused. I quickly put the soap down and rinsed off, forcing myself to focus on things other than my son.
The next day my body was sore all over and I could barely walk, but mentally I felt wonderful. I was proud that I had taken the first step towards the new me and was determined to prove Don wrong in the process. I was still tender at work on Monday, but didn't let on as I wanted to keep what I was doing a secret in the event the pounds were more difficult to shed than I'd hoped.
Tyler gave me another day to rest, but on Wednesday evening we were back in the basement, where he put me through my paces once more. Everything seemed to be a bit harder than on the weekend as I think my muscles were still tired, but I fought through the pain and did my best. Tyler kept offering me words of encouragement which made things easier than they otherwise might have been.
Since I had perspired so heavily during our last session, I decided to do away with the bulky sweatpants in favor of a pair of athletic shorts. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not, but Tyler's hands seemed to find my bare legs on numerous occasions. During my stretching he pointed out some of the muscles I was working in my legs, and lightly traced a finger up and down them for effect. My skin tingled at his gentle touch, yet I did my best to remain calm.
Later, when I was on the bench doing some light weight work, I gazed downward and noticed my nipples were slightly engorged and protruding through my sweat-soaked bra and tee shirt. My chest was heaving due to my exertion, which in my mind made them all the more prominent. I looked up and found Tyler's eyes were cast that way, desire clearly written across his handsome face. For some reason, rather than feeling embarrassed or outraged by his overt staring, I strangely became somewhat excited. I could not recall the last time a man looked at me that way, and as crazy as it may sound, I enjoyed the feeling.
Tyler took his turn upon the weight bench after me, and my eyes wandered down his chiseled torso to his midsection. A sizeable lump pressed up the fabric of his tight athletic shorts and I couldn't help but ponder just how large he was down there. I had only been intimate with one man in my entire life, and wondered just how varied their equipment might be. Things like that were not discussed in my small circle of conservative girlfriends, so my mind raced as I averted my eyes. I had never even seen a Playgirl, for heaven's sake, and probably had less experience than most girls half my age these days.
When we finished the workout, I gave Tyler a hug and headed off to the shower. I let the warm water cascade down my body for a long time, feeling some relief in my aching muscles. I chided myself for feeling aroused in my son's presence, but I just chocked it up to the frustration in my marriage and lack of male attention.
After my shower I slipped into a comfy old pair of pajamas and headed to the living room to watch some TV before bed. Tyler was there already bathed and viewing his favorite program from the couch. When I approached, he smiled at me and patted the sofa to offer me a spot right alongside of him, which I happily accepted. Don was upstairs on the computer as usual, so it was just the two of us watching the tube.
Tyler asked me how I was feeling, and I admitted that I was more than a bit sore all over. I was surprised when he offered me a massage, and I once again felt a shiver run through my body at the thought of being touched in an intimate way. The idea was certainly appealing, so I only made a halfhearted attempt to decline, but he insisted. On his instructions, I sprawled forward across the cushions and tried to make myself comfortable.
Moments later, I felt his hands lightly caressing my shoulders, and then slowly work down across my back. I have no idea where he learned his technique, but the massage was heavenly. Tyler must have known how sore I was because he never applied too much pressure, just gently but steadily rubbed my aches away.
Very softly, he asked, "Feel okay, Mom?"
"Wonderful," I whimpered honestly.
Tyler focused most of his attention on my back and shoulders, but occasionally dropped down to rub my calves and feet as well. At times his fingers strayed close to my breasts when he was caressing my sides, but he always kept things professional. After such a hard workout, I felt like I was slowly melting into the sofa and I loved every second of it.
The massage ended long after Tyler's program was over, and I felt guilty that he had probably missed the entire thing while he focused his attention upon me. My muscles were very tired, but the rubdown stimulated me in a way for which I was unprepared. Blood flowed to areas of my body it had not in ages, and naughty thoughts entered my head while he held me just before we called it a night.
When I climbed under the sheets that evening Don was already snoring loudly. He had no idea a horny woman was so close by, and I certainly was not going to wake him. I had never been particularly into masturbation, but at that moment I was feeling the need for some self-pleasure and slipped a hand down into my PJ's. With my husband sleeping just inches away, I fondled my sex in a slow, rhythmic fashion. Only three or four minutes later, I came with a shudder, biting my lip to remain silent.
The next three weeks of our workouts played out similarly to the first. Tyler watched my every move like a hawk and continued the positive reinforcement when he thought my energy was waning. At other times he gave me a bit of tough love when I needed a kick in the pants, which I greatly appreciated.
Don would usually grunt aloud or utter some other negative sound as Tyler and I made our way downstairs, which I think only heightened the kinship between my son and I. It was almost as if it was us against him, which for me proved highly motivating.
I know it may sound crazy coming from a woman of my age, but somehow I almost felt like a teen again. After years of being ignored, it was wonderful to have someone pay so much attention to me. It didn't hurt that he was handsome, and actually seemed as interested in my mind as my physical wellbeing. Tyler was effusive in his compliments towards me, and I soaked them all up like a sponge, whether he was exaggerating or not.
09-08-2014, 10:40 PM
When I entered the basement on the next Saturday morning, it marked the first month of our workouts together. After successfully avoiding them for a month, Tyler had both the scale and tape out, and I reluctantly subjected myself to each. I had actually grown accustomed to feeling Tyler's hands on my body as I tried to master the various stretches and exercises, so the tape seemed not nearly as invasive as it had the first time.
I was glad that I had proven Don wrong by keeping up the exercise routine, but even happier with the results. I had lost more pounds and inches than I had expected, which simply thrilled me. As my son had predicted, after reviewing the numbers, I was more fired up to work out than ever before.
"See Mom, I told you we'd made progress," Tyler beamed, and I could not contain my own smile.
I felt tremendously grateful that he had given so much of his time to assist me, so I replied honestly, "It's all because of you, sweetie." I moved towards him and we fell into a tight embrace. We held one another for far longer than usual, before we awkwardly broke apart to set about our work.
I didn't own any real workout clothes, so on lunch break the next Monday I stepped into an athletic apparel shop and purchased a few items. After browsing the aisles for a while, I picked up two new pairs of shorts and a couple lightweight tops. They were actually quite basic, but compared to the rags I owned, they were just a tad sexy.
It probably sounds bad, but a small part of me wanted to dress that way for Tyler, to show how our hard work had paid off. Although he tried to be subtle, over the subsequent days I caught him looking me over more than once, and it didn't bother me one bit. In fact, it was somewhat thrilling.
I can honestly say the workouts became the highlight of my day. Tyler and I chatted while we exercised, and I was grateful to reconnect with my son in such a special way. After our sessions, we often found excuses to stay together and talk before heading back to the reality that was life upstairs. He became my confidant, and while I didn't share much of the issues I had with Don, I'm sure he guessed more than he let on.
On clear evenings, we often took a long stroll around the neighborhood to cool down after our intense workouts. One night while we were trekking across a nearby field, to my surprise, Tyler grasped my palm inside of his own. As momentarily stunned as I was, I quickly grew comfortable with our shared intimacy. Feelings of true love were bubbling up inside me I'm not sure I had ever experienced before.
We silently walked hand in hand for a while until we reached the row of houses once more. Tyler seemed reluctant to release my hand, but we broke apart and began walking homeward. After that first evening holding hands, we did it more times than not, regardless of where we were, and each time I felt giddy.
In my alone time, I began feeling very guilty. As much as I loved our special time together, I was sure I was keeping Tyler away from the active summer life of a normal college student. A handsome twenty one year old male should be out meeting willing young ladies, not spending so much time with his mom. I felt the need to re-establish our normal mother-son dynamic, as much as it hurt.
Over the next few days, I purposely kept a bit of distance between Tyler and myself when we were alone. Part of me wanted to sit down with him and explain myself, but how could I? I mean, what would I say, "Sorry, sweetie, but I think I'm falling in love with you?" That was something he just didn't need to know and I would have to carry with me to my grave.
For his part, Tyler clearly knew something was amiss, but thankfully didn't push me or ask too many questions. After less than a week, I missed our newfound intimate moments so much; I couldn't push him away any longer. He had become like a drug to me and I just had to have more. On our next walk I gladly held my son's hand and didn't care who saw us.
One evening Tyler came home from work with a decided limp, and I asked him what was wrong.
"Just a slight muscle pull in my left thigh, I think," he responded casually, pretending everything was just fine.
Don of course was his usual compassionate self and said, "Suck it up, you big baby."
I was irate with my husband, but somehow managed to keep my frustrations inside without lashing out. After years of marriage, I guess I probably expected a comment of that nature from him. My mind quickly went back to my son. Given all the attention Tyler had lavished upon me, I knew I wanted to return the favor. Just as soon as I had finished cleaning up after dinner, I went to the bathroom and poured a hot bubble bath, then demanded he take a hot soak.
I let him soak for a few minutes, and then stood nervously at the bathroom door and knocked softly. "May I come in?"
"Sure Mom," he responded, and I slowly entered the steamy little room.
Tyler was completely covered in suds, so I couldn't see anything below his chest. "Don't worry about your father," I stated softly as I sat down on the cold porcelain tub beside him. "He has no idea how hard you work."
I learned Tyler was far more in tune to the family dynamic than I had thought, when he responded, "He doesn't know what hard work is, Mom." With that, he moved his hand from the side of the tub and placed it upon my knee just below the hem of my skirt. After a brief pause, he gently stroked my soft skin without uttering another word while he stared directly into my eyes.
My mind raced in tune with my pounding pulse. As much as I loved being there with him and sharing our little stolen moments, I had to get away. I turned to look at him just before I left the bathroom and felt a sudden weakness. In spite of myself, I softly whispered, "I'll massage your thigh later tonight, umm, if you'd like." I felt like a silly schoolgirl, throwing myself out there for a boy with no safety net to catch me. It was way beyond anything I'd ever even imagined with Billy Hanlon.
As I stood fidgeting at the door, Tyler thankfully replied, "I'd really like that."
Air suddenly returned to my chest as I closed the door and made my way towards the stairs. Don was on the computer in the study once more, and the last thing I wanted was to be upstairs near him. It felt much safer to be a floor away from him, afraid he might be able to see how naughty I was feeling inside.
I found myself pacing in the kitchen, anxiously awaiting Tyler's arrival. After what seemed like ages, I heard the pounding of feet upon the hardwood floors as someone approached from above. With baited breath, I looked towards the door, and was relieved when my son sauntered around the corner.
We both looked upon one another with loving eyes, before I was forced to glace away when I felt warmth in my cheeks. Desperate to break the awkward silence, I said softly, "Why don't you go lay on the couch."
With a smile he turned and hobbled his way towards the living room. I wanted to remain detached, but how could I seeing my son limping the way he was? I rushed to his side and fluffed a pillow for him, before he settled face-down on the sofa.
I nestled my bottom onto a tiny piece of open space next to his abdomen, and then moved my hands to his shoulders to commence my massage. I took my time and lavished attention on his back, and at times his legs too. His skin was warm and soft and I enjoyed pampering him after everything he had done for me. It was wonderful to touch a firm male body after being with my portly spouse for so long.
After a good half hour rubbing his back, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Roll over."
"No, I'm fine now, Mom. Just let me rest a while."
I knew his thigh was bothering him, and really wanted to make it better, so I reiterated, "It's okay, just roll over, honey." Tyler didn't move for a moment, so I gave him a playful slap on the butt and said a bit louder, "Come on, roll over."
After a pause, Tyler slowly moved onto his back, and instantly I knew why he had been so hesitant. A prominent bulge tented my son's tight athletic shorts, which almost took my breath away. His face glowed red with embarrassment, but I wanted to somehow convey I understood it was beyond his control. I don't think I'd ever felt more compassion for anyone in my life, and I tried to look directly into his eyes without overtly acknowledging the problem below. I gave him my best knowing motherly smile, and then said softly, "It's okay sweetie, just close your eyes and relax."
Although I tried to remain calm on the outside, my insides were doing cartwheels. I almost found it hard to breathe as I moved my hands to Tyler's thighs and slowly began running them up and down. I honestly tried to look away, but my eyes were drawn to his groin like a magnet, soaking in his obvious excitement. It had been ages since I'd seen Don erect, but this was far more taboo. My son's cock was less than two feet from my face, and my mouth began to water as I momentarily imagined pulling down his shorts, then leaning over to take it between my lips.
Tyler grunted occasionally as I applied a bit of extra pressure, so I tried to be as gentle but thorough as possible. At times my fingertips ran under the seam of his shorts, only inches from his balls and semi-erect penis. A tingle ran down my spine as I realized I was doing it intentionally, experiencing an illicit thrill at my not so subtle actions.
"How does that feel, sweetie?" I cooed as I gently caressed his skin.
"Awesome," he whimpered, which made me smile widely.
My eyes may have been riveted to the bulge in Tyler's shorts as I stroked his thigh, but my lewd fantasy world was shaken when I heard the pitter patter of feet on the hardwood floors above. Ty must have heard it too, because he rapidly sat up and pulled a pillow onto his crotch. I quickly moved to the other end of the sofa and took a seat as well, trying to appear as natural as possible. Thankfully, when Don arrived at the bottom of the steps, he turned and went into the kitchen without giving us a moment's notice.
Tyler and I looked upon each other with obvious relief on our faces. It seemed to me like we had dodged a major bullet, and my son must have had the same thought. As strange as it may sound, after only a moment, we both broke out into grins, and then fought to repress giggles. It really did feel like it was the two of us against my husband.
09-08-2014, 10:40 PM
Don came into the room a minute later and asked, "What's going on? I thought you were going to watch a movie."
I was a still a bit flustered, but thankfully Tyler took control and answered, "The movie sucked, so we turned it off a few minutes ago. We were just about to head up to bed." I normally do not like lies, but under the circumstances his fib seemed innocent enough.
Don just shook his head before he walked towards the stairs, while complete relief washed over me. I looked at Tyler and wanted to say so many things, but nothing would come out of my mouth. He must have felt the same as he silently rose from his seat and held his hands out to me. I placed my palms in his and let him pull me into a tight embrace.
After everything we shared the previous weeks, it was clear Tyler and I had more than just a normal mother-son relationship. If I was being completely honest with myself, I think it was at that evening when I first thought of him as my soul mate.
When we broke away, Tyler looked down upon me and slowly leaned forward, bringing his lips to mine. I would not call it a passionate kiss, but it lingered longer than the usual pecks we had shared so many times before. He then stared deeply into my eyes, and said, "I love you, Mom."
I could feel my cheeks burning as I responded, "I love you too."
My head was swimming as I climbed the stairs ahead of him, wondering if he was checking out my bottom in my cute PJs. I have to admit, I did put a bit of extra wiggle with every step, hoping to draw his eyes to my assets. I felt a bit guilty as we passed the door to my husband's study, yet he paid us no attention as usual.
My body was simply on fire as I climbed under the covers. My fingers immediately went between my legs and I began stroking my loins. I hoped to rub myself off before my husband came in from his office, but only a minute or so later he entered the room and made ready for bed.
When Don slipped in beside me, I could feel the warmth between us and wondered if he could too. We had not been intimate in ages, but my body had been in such a heightened sensual state, I was ready for attention. After a moment of indecision regarding what I should do, I lovingly eased myself up against his side. In all the years of our marriage, I had rarely been the one to initiate sex, so this was a big deal to me. I gently ran my hand up and down Don's belly a few times, and then lowered it to his groin.
I assumed that after being without affection for as long as he had, my husband would have responded enthusiastically. Instead, he pushed my hand away and barked, "Jesus Kathy, go to bed."
Until that moment I had never before considered it, but suddenly I wondered if Don might be cheating on me. Sure, I was no runway model, but I certainly looked better than I had in years. Yet there he was, still rejecting me.
I was hurt by Don's seeming indifference and possible infidelity, but grew irate later as I lay there wide awake as he snored contentedly beside me. The arousal I felt earlier had dissipated, but out of spite, I suddenly wanted to get myself off right there alongside him.
My hand moved under my waistband once again and began to softly stroke my nether lips. Normally I would have fought with tooth and nail to keep thoughts of Tyler out of my head, but after being rebuffed by Don, I welcomed his image into my head. In my mind I was back on the couch with my son, yet not stroking his injured thigh. At that moment, I was thinking about stroking his hard cock instead, desperately wanting to give him the pleasure his father clearly did not want.
I found myself slowly rocking my hips against my probing fingers, no longer caring if I disturbed my husband's slumber. My blood began to boil as I pictured yanking down Tyler's shorts and taking his young cock into my mouth, and sucking him to completion. Seconds later, I came with a rush as I imagined swallowing my son's cream, with him screaming in my ears, "Oh, Mom!"
After I had recovered from my orgasm, I began to feel quite guilty at the pleasure my lewd thoughts had given me. Sure, Don had been a jackass towards me for a while, but he was still my husband. And Tyler was my son for heaven's sake, what the hell was I thinking? Yes, I had been ignored and neglected, but that was no reason to imagine sucking my son's cock just to get myself off.
I was deeply saddened when August first rolled around because I knew Tyler would soon be heading back to school. My heart was heavy as I pictured the emptiness I would feel by his absence, at home with only my husband for companionship. Don was never abusive mind you, but he seemed to grow jealous of Tyler and my relationship over the summer. I think, or maybe hoped, he was possibly seeing just what he had lost.
Tyler was leaving for school on the next Saturday morning, so on Friday evening we enjoyed one last workout together. The session was quieter than usual as I think we both were saddened by the prospect of being apart. We made eye contact often, and for some reason I couldn't help but blush. I felt like a schoolgirl once more, but my crush was no longer Billy Hanlon.
After our intense session, we once again took a long walk through the neighborhood, hand in hand. We strolled casually, wanting to spend as much time together as possible without ever admitting it aloud. When the sky grew dark, we sadly turned and made our way home.
Arriving back at the front door, Tyler held both my hands in his and stared at me lovingly. Tears formed in my eyes as I gazed back at him, and then I moved forward and rested my head on his chest. He pulled me into a tight embrace as my body began to shudder with sobs. It felt wonderful to be in the arms of someone who truly loved me and I clung to him for dear life. As he patted my back, Tyler whispered in my ear, "It'll be okay, Mom."
After what seemed like hours, Tyler eased away and looked down upon me once more. His eyes were filled with such love; my heart almost skipped a beat. No words were spoken as he moved his lips to mine and we softly kissed. Our mouths moved together gently for a few seconds when I felt the tip of his tongue make contact with my own. It lasted only a moment as if he was testing me, but a shiver ran down my spine, right to my groin. I felt a longing between my legs that I had never before experienced, which frankly scared me, given the fact that we were standing on our front steps with bright light shining on us from above. Deathly afraid that the neighbors might be watching, I pushed myself away and almost ran indoors.
Moments later I found myself alone in the safety of my shower. I was ashamed that I left Tyler without a word of explanation, yet the fire burning in my loins was still there, and I just had to put it out. Two fingers of my right hand curled in and out of my sex, while my left hand was pressed against the tile wall for support. When I came, it was not the face of my husband that I saw, but that of my loving son.
For some reason, after my orgasm I broke down in tears and began sobbing silently as I tried to come to terms with my tattered emotions. Knowing in just hours Tyler would be gone and I may not see him again for months, I was filled with immense sadness. It took ages to finally fall asleep that evening as I just could not stifle all the mixed emotions I was feeling.
In the morning Tyler packed up his car, and Don and I saw him off without much fanfare. I was on pins and needles, afraid I might do something to reveal just how distressed I really was. I longed to embrace him like the night before, but this time never let him go. Instead, I gave him a curt hug and a quick peck on the cheek, and the next thing I knew, he was gone.
Over the next couple days, I actually felt sickened by my behavior. Because I didn't have the courage to face him and talk about why I had run away after our kiss, I'm sure Tyler was left feeling immense guilt. I finally sat down at my computer one evening and typed him a long e-mail. I basically told him I treasured our time together and loved the fact that he had been so wonderful to me, but apologized for getting carried away that last evening, without ever actually mentioning the kiss. After reading over the message a number of times, with great apprehension I hit the send button.
I checked my in box at least fifty times before I finally received Tyler's response. His words were so sweet I had to re-read them a second time through musty eyes. He said I had nothing to apologize for, that he was the one that got carried away, not I. The last line of his text read, "I just hope you don't hate me."
How could I ever hate my son? He clearly had no idea hate was the last emotion I could ever feel towards him. It had taken me a while to realize it, but I no longer just loved Tyler, I was in love with him. Head over heels like nothing I had ever felt before.
Rather than just send back a message, I decided I needed to be brave and actually phone him. I took my cell phone to the basement, and punched in his number. Tyler must have been in class, because it went straight to his voice mail. After listening to his short greeting, I left the following stammering message, "Hi honey, it's Mom. I just read your e-mail and needed to let you know that I don't hate you...I could never, ever hate you. I'm so, so sorry I ran away from you the other night and wanted you to know you did nothing wrong. I was just concerned that if your father or the neighbors saw us, they might, umm, you know, get the wrong idea. Please don't feel bad about this, sweetie. I love you so much and already miss you a ton. Take good care, honey. I love you."
09-08-2014, 10:41 PM
After I hung up the phone, I felt really silly about my choice of words, and regretted leaving the message. I wished I had written things down before I dialed his number so I could make all the points I wanted, instead I was certain I'd missed the mark on so many things. There was no way for me to delete it, so I just hoped he'd understand when he finally listened.
Tyler called me back that evening, but Don was sitting next to me so I couldn't say much. The conversation was brief, but it felt wonderful to put things behind us and move forward. After that evening, we found time to either chat on the phone or e-mail at least once per day and from his tone I could tell things were pretty much back to normal. Life would indeed go on one way or another.
I decided I owed it to Tyler to not only continue my workouts, but to even take things further. I threw myself into my routine with abandon, and even took up jogging. My runs were only around the perimeter of our neighborhood, so no more than three miles or so, but they left me feeling truly invigorated.
In late September, I pulled out the scale and tape, and eagerly checked my stats. Thanks to diet and exercise, in just the month or so since Tyler went back to school, I had dropped another eight pounds. I couldn't wait to tell him and after putting myself through a really hard workout, sat at my laptop to send a note.
The phone rang about a half hour later, and I knew who it was before I even picked it up. After I said hello, Tyler barked, "Eight pounds! That's awesome, Mom!"
I have no doubt I was beaming from ear to ear as I gushed, "It's all because of you."
We exchanged excited comments for a while, when he said, "God, I can't wait to see you." My heart fluttered at his words, and then he tentatively asked, "Maybe you could, you know, send pictures?"
The idea of possibly e-mailing pictures of myself to my son really threw me for a loop. And the fact that he clearly wanted to see them made my skin tingle. I didn't reject his request outright, and simply responded, "We'll see." I definitely needed to think that one over.
As I lay in bed later then evening, aside my slumbering husband, I thought about Tyler's request. The more I mulled it over, the more harmless it seemed. What's wrong with a mother sending her son a few pictures? It wasn't like I was going to be nude or anything.
I gently eased myself out of bed, and moved to my dresser. After considering the options of what to wear for a while, I decided to go with one of my newer workout getups. I grabbed the shorts and top, and silently made my way downstairs.
After picking up our digital camera, I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I pulled off my nightie, and slipped into my workout gear, then looked in the mirror. I slept without a bra, and had neglected to bring one, so my breasts were unencumbered under the light top. Just a slight hint of my nipples could be seen, and rather than be ashamed, I thought the idea of taking pictures in that state was just a bit sexy. It was further stimulation knowing what I was being somewhat naughty with my husband just upstairs.
I primped my hair a bit, and then pointed the camera into the mirror and snapped a number of shots. I twisted and turned my body into one pose after another, hoping to capture at least a couple of flattering angles. After a good ten minutes of posing, I made my way to the kitchen where I kept my laptop, and downloaded the new images. As the file ran, I erased all the shots from the camera lest Don find them and ask questions I was unprepared to answer.
I poured over them slowly, deleting all the pictures I didn't like for whatever reason. Overall I was pretty pleased with the quality, given the fact that I had shot them into a mirror. In the small frame, you couldn't really tell that I was braless, but the tiny dots of my nipples were detectable if you looked hard. I had a sneaky suspicion that Tyler just might too.
After running over them back and forth for some time, I settled on the three I liked the most, then logged into my e-mail. I attached the three pictures, and typed five simple words, "So, what do you think?" After that, I logged off and made my way back to bed.
Taking the pictures had really made my pulse pound, and I found sleep impossible. My mind kept wandering to thoughts of Tyler scanning them diligently, one after another, and hoping he liked what he saw. I wondered if they might even be sexy enough to make him hard, and the next thing I knew I was touching myself again.
At first I just rubbed my slick lips, teasing myself with gentle contact. Before long, I slid a finger into my depths, and started moving it in and out. I added another finger, then increased the pace as my excitement continued to grow. I could almost see Tyler sitting in front of his computer, stroking himself as he looked at my pictures with wide eyes. Seconds later my own body stiffened as I came, desperately trying to stifle a sigh. Thankfully I didn't wake Donald, and finally satiated, I too drifted off into a contented sleep.
I intentionally didn't log into my personal e-mail until the next afternoon, where I found my son had responded to my message. I was nervous as I opened it, but knew I shouldn't have been. He said he was going to be late for class, so he had to keep his note brief. Still, I couldn't contain a smile as I read, "Holy cow Mom! You look amazing! Keep up the good work and can't wait to see you! XOXO."
As I jogged the neighborhood that evening, I thought about the pictures I sent and contemplated possibly doing more. The idea of sending something racier came into my head, and as strange as it sounds, I didn't dismiss it right away. Knowing I might one day pose for a picture in something truly revealing like lingerie or a bikini would be highly motivational. If I were going to do something that daring, I'd really need to drop at least another ten pounds. Minutes later when I reached my home, I just kept right on going and did another loop for good measure. After that evening, I consistently did at least two laps or more.
Tyler was working on a big senior project at school, so he wasn't able to make it home once that fall before Thanksgiving. The second Saturday on November, I once again broke out the scale to take my weight. I was stunned when I read the dial. In the six weeks since I had last updated my son, I had dropped another fourteen pounds. I knew my clothes had seemed baggier, in fact I had to take a couple skirts in to have them tailored, but I really hadn't expected this.
After working out and taking a hot shower, I left Don on the couch watching football while I went out on a mission. The sporting goods store downtown had a large selection of workout clothing, and I knew just what I wanted. I selected a tight pair of pink and black stretch boy shorts and a matching bikini-style sports top and headed to the changing room. They proved to be a bit snug, but otherwise a good fit.
As I assessed myself in the mirror, for possibly the first time in my entire life I thought I looked pretty damn sexy. Of course I had seen pictures of women in magazines dressed in similar outfits before, but not for a moment did I ever think that one day I'd be clothed in the same way.
I went back to the rack and picked out another outfit, this one in navy blue and green, and raced back to try it on. If possible, this one made me look even slimmer. I was on cloud nine when I arrived at the checkout counter with my two new outfits, and happily forked over more money than otherwise I thought they were worth.
I didn't want my husband to know what I purchased for some reason, so I stopped at the grocery store before going home, hiding my new apparel under a bag of veggies. As expected, Don was still on the sofa when I arrived back at the house, and I lied and told him I was going up for a nap. Of course I snuck both my laptop and camera along with me.
Our master bathroom had a full-length mirror, and within minutes I was before it in the new blue and green outfit. I practiced posing for a while, before I grabbed the camera and started shooting. At times I just couldn't help myself, and turned to expose my profile, eager to show off my firmer tummy and legs. Of course, in so doing I was also showing my tighter tush and more pronounced bust line. I quickly changed into the pink and black gear, and then repeated most of the same poses.
After changing back into my skirt and blouse, I hid the new purchases and eagerly pulled out my laptop and loaded the pictures. Other than the fact that I could really use a tan, they all looked quite good. I had never been particularly happy with my appearance, but at that moment I was quite proud of myself. I thought I looked pretty damn hot for a woman my age.
Once again, I selected the shots I liked best, this time just two in total, and attached them to an e-mail. The pictures were sexier than the ones I had sent before, so I was a bit apprehensive, thinking maybe this was going too far. The first picture was of me facing forward, which showed some pretty ample cleavage created by the tight sports top. The last had me standing sideways, bent over just a touch so my newly firmer bottom was thrust out provocatively. I wasn't sure what to say in my message, so this time I just typed one word, "Thoughts?" and hit send.
I closed my computer and lay back under the covers. Seeing how sexy I looked in the pictures made me feel heady, and before I even knew what was happening, I found my hand under my skirt, pressed firmly between my legs. I softly rubbed myself through my silky panties for only a minute, when my cell phone rang from its place on the nightstand. I knew it could only be one person.
I greeted him with a soft, "Well, hello sweetie."
"Oh my God, Mom, you look amazing!" he exclaimed with excitement.
I tried to play coy and asked, "You really think so?"
"Hell yes!" he exclaimed, and then added, "I'm so proud of you."
My heart swelled as I heard the words. First and foremost, I was doing it for myself, but secondly I really wanted Tyler to be proud of me. He clearly liked my progress, which thrilled me to no end. What was also exciting was the fact that I continued to touch myself as we spoke, hearing his voice only heightening my arousal.
We chatted about the pictures for a while, and then I asked, "So, which one do you like better?"
"Well, they're both awesome, but I think I'd go with the picture of you in the pink outfit." That was the one of me from the side, and I asked why. "I don't know, I just like it better for some reason," he replied nervously.
I was feeling a little giddy, so I said, "I guess that means you're more of a leg and butt man than a boob man."
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